


A Bad, Bad Day

by DarkDarling (solsethegreat)



Series: The House of the Phoenix [8]
Category: Actor RPF, Original Work, Real Person Fiction, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Beating, Bestiality, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Brutality, Disturbing Themes, Explicit Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Horror, M/M, Necrophilia, Oral Sex, Psychological Horror, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roleplay Logs, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Horror, Shooting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsethegreat/pseuds/DarkDarling
Summary: Jensen is a psychopath. Channing is a disgruntled bar owner. A slight altercation leads to the worst night of Channing's life.





	A Bad, Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is an RP log from damn near 15 years ago. It was a pseudo-celebrity game set in a Master/Slave bondage club where you just used the face and name of a person but created a whole new character out of them. This log has been sitting in my docs for years, but it's just so... disturbing that I keep going back to it. It might not be written all that well, and I was probably DEFINITELY too young to be in this game, but at the same time... I kind of like writing disturbing, visceral, sexual horror and this is definitely that. It's not for the faint of heart, lots and LOTS of triggering things. Just be forewarned.

Channing really didn't want to call security on that slave, but he gave him no choice.  He physically  _ beat _ on him.  Channing didn't understand why, he was the perfect gentleman.  He offered his friendship, offered to just talk, only do what the boy wanted to, but the boy took it out on him.  And he knew that he didn't want to be there.  If Channing could do something to help him, and Randy, and all the other slaves that just seemed so unhappy there, he would.  But he couldn't now, because he was only one person.  And the power of Maison extended everywhere.  They had people in power everywhere, and Channing couldn't fight that. 

He was just in a royally bad mood by the time he entered The Southern Peach, and he plopped down at the bar where Joey knew right away from the look on his face that it was bad.  So he poured him the strong stuff and smiled.  

"Guy's back." He said with a little nod to a booth behind Channing. 

Jensen.  He was back, and chatting it up with that waitress.  

"Oh christ." He rolled his eyes and downed his drink, then walked over to the table.  

"Ahem... don't you have some waitressing to do?" He asked her politely before she disappeared with a grumble.  Then his gaze returned to Jensen. 

"I thought I told you to stop hitting on my staff." He glared.  This was not a mood for games.

Watching Stephanie sashay away, Jensen drew his tongue tip across the flawlessness of his lower row of teeth before pulling his lips into a vast and supercilious grin. “She’s a real firecracker, that one.  _ Great _ in bed,” he jogged his eyebrows. 

“Had to near pry her off me,” he continued, leaning back against the booth’s padded surface, fingers of his right hand toying idly with the leaves of a fake plant positioned between his booth and the one adjacent to it.

"Oh well that's nice.  Unfortunately, we're closing." He raised his eyebrow in a slight glare. Of course, it was obvious that the bar was nowhere near ready to close, with it being 12:30 and all, but Channing was in a bad mood, and dealing with jackasses in the club, just weren't one of his top priorities right now.

He did however smile cockily as the bouncers made their way over.

There were three options that were present.. Jensen could leave orderly, without dispute, and please Channing by believing the handsome actor was intimidated by the muscle approaching. Which he wasn’t. Or, Mr. Ackles could wait outside for the disdainful little bastard co-owner or whatever he was of the pub to exit after the bar  _ actually _ closed. Miserably, for Channing, Jensen had no such patience..... So, what remained? The most brazen option.. Reaching behind his back with his right hand, the swarthy-haired actor extracted a rather brawny looking firearm from the waistband of his jeans while grasping Channing’s shirt collar with his left hand and wrenching the man toward him, so that the muzzle of the revolver and the punk-ass’ temple would come into sharp contact.

“Now,” he instructed, pulling the safety on the weapon, arming it, he snarled at the bouncers. 

“Everybody fuck off, or I make a big mess..” Pushing Channing, he started to edge toward the door. Speaking solely to the man he had in his custody, he hissed, “Do anything untoward and I splatter your peanut sized brain all over your friends, here.”

Great.  BEST DAY EVER! Yes, Jensen scared Channing with the gun.  Yes, he didn't know what to do.  But Channing had the uncanny ability to keep his cool when things got bad.  So he gulped and nodded to the bouncers, telling them to back off, that he'd be okay.  And Daddy was up for re-election this year, so if something happened, it would be quickly covered up as not to hurt the campaign.  Because yes, politics were more important to the Tatum family than family.  Well to all but Channing.

Still, Channing let the man drag him about.  "You know I'm the son of a house representative.  They'll send someone after you..." He gulped a bit.

“Yeah, see, here’s the thing...” he announced to the crowd and to Channing, “I have a police scanner in my truck, and if I hear anything, even the  _ faintest _ indication that there’s people following us, I’ll be cleaning  _ someone’s _ –” he jammed the gun into the man’s temple hard “face off my passenger side window for a while. So no one get heroic or have any smart ideas.” 

Guiding Channing back toward the door further, only a few paces from it, he glanced behind him, reassuring himself, before jostling his prisoner hard again, knowing that his hostage will open the door for them both as they move out into the parking lot.

Channing sighed a bit and opened the door.  "Don't tell dad..." He said to the nearest bouncer in a quiet voice, who wasn't daring to move lest Jensen really pull the trigger.  One of the bouncers used to be a guard for his dad, so he'd no doubt have the place on lockdown afterward, making sure he interviewed witnesses or whatever it is those people do, and making sure things kept hush hush.  At least until after election day. 

They made there way to the parking lot and Channing kept his hands up.  "You don't have to do this..." He said weakly. 

“Oh please don’t be all moany and rape victim on me,” he snickered, shoving Channing against the driver’s side front door, nuzzling the gun in deeper against the man’s skull as he opened the driver’s side rear door. Pulling out some handcuffs, he barked at his captive vitriolically. 

“Put your damn hands behind your back, bitch.” Waiting for his order to be followed, Jensen leered back toward the entrance to the pub, a few people lingering just inside of the establishment, watching the ordeal unfold. None, however, were idiotic enough to step foot outside as they did not wish to compromise Channing’s safety more than it already was...

"Rape victim?" He whispered, sliding his hands back for Jensen to cuff them, though not willingly.  "This is insane..." He closed his eyes tight and pretended this wasn't happening, even though he could still feel the cold metal of the gun to his head, the pull of the cuffs as the were fastened to his wrists quite uncomfortably.

"L-Look.  My dad has connections.  If you let me go and just leave, he'll make this and any other things on your criminal record disappear... I promise..."

Securing the metal fetters to where they would leave marks on Channing’s wrists, he grasped the man by the scruff of the neck and guided him around the front of the F-350 truck, opened the passenger door and tossed him inside. 

“Keep your mouth shut, ass, unless I address you,” he snarled. Aiming the gun at Channing the entire time he walked back around the nose of the burly black vehicle, he swiftly leapt into the driver’s seat and turned the key he’d left in the ignition, the metallic monster roaring to life. Backing the truck in an L, all with one hand, shifting easily and accelerating off out of the parking lot with the gun pointed in his hostage’s general direction, Jensen grinned. 

“Time for a little ride.. Music?” he razzed the man as they sped down a road toward who knows where...

Channing didn't speak.  He didn't even look at him.  All that he did was stare out the window with a look of glazed over eyes, uncaring.  He knew bad was coming.  He just didn't want to think about it.  Just be anywhere than there.  So he paid no attention to Jensen.

Whatever his grudging company did really was of no concern to Jensen, providing he shut up and didn’t try anything annoying. Adjusting the dial on the volume, some blaringly loud music came rushing from the speakers, to which the driver hummed to occasionally, drumming out the beat on the steering wheel with his fingers. 

“Welcome to the Jungle, I’m gonna watch you bleeed!” he sang, quite well, too, seemingly oblivious to Channing’s likely state of mind... They drove for about twenty minutes until the road became gravel and there were fewer and fewer cars passing by. Finally, he took a harsh right, pebbles spraying outward from the tires as Jensen pulled over into an unlit cottage driveway. Parking the truck, he shifted his weight and pushed the seat back a bit, turning the engine off, but leaving the truck on so that the music continued to blast. 

“Alright. Now, I think you can guess why you’re here and what’s going to happen. So I don’t want to hear a lot of ‘Why!’ and ‘What do you want from me!?’ and shit, mnkay? Do as you’re told, and no one gets hurt. ...Well that’s a lie,” he smirked. 

“Do as you’re told and you will get  _ less _ hurt.” Unbuckling his belt, he unzipped his jeans and directed the weapon at Channing. 

“Let’s get started, shall we...” The insinuation was brazen..

Channing offered him a cold look, fighting only with his eyes because he couldn't fight him any other way.  And he took a deep breath and gazed out the window again.  

"Are you gonna do it in here or in there?  It's too cramped in here, doncha think?" He said humorless.

“What, you think I just like to walk around with my pants undone, fuckface?” he hissed and pushed the gun into one of Channing’s eye sockets, grinding it in to where the man would have to genuflect his head in order to escape the pressure against his eye. 

“No, asshole, I want it here. Now. Now undo me the rest of the way and get the fuck to it. Or this is going to be a really short trip,” he spoke, each word sharp.

"H-how?" He said, closing his eyes so he didn't have to look down the barrel of the gun.  "I'm cuffed.  I can't undo them... If you u-uncuff me, I can."

He gulped a bit and opened his eyes.  "I won't fight, I don't have the desire to be shot..."

“No, I wouldn’t imagine you would,” he snickered, more to himself. 

“How do you think, bitch. With your slutty mouth. That’s about all it’s good for, so put it to use.” Spreading his muscled thighs, he repositioned the gun more toward the back of Channing’s head, gnashing it against bone, urging the man to inch closer to his awaiting lap. 

“Now stop fucking questioning me. I warned you about it, and the next time you do it, you’ll earn yourself another hole.”

Channing gulped and bit his lip, then dipped his head down, guided by the hard push of the gun, and he used his teeth to pull down the fabric of the boxer shorts that were exposed under the undone zipper, breathing heavily as he wasn't sure if all he had to do was blow the guy to make him happy.  He could do that...

His teeth tugged the fabric over the already tenting erection and exposed the cock, which popped out.  In any other situation, he'd be turned on, but here, he was just going through the motions to get this guy as far away from him as possible, so he knelt down and nuzzled his cheek against it, looking at him and awaiting further instructions.

Surely, Channing had done this once or twice. The thought amused Jensen, obviously, as he flared a resplendent smile down to his victim, spreading his thighs a little further apart once his shaft, which was already entirely bloated from the excitement of the many lewd prospects that he had in mind for later, was exposed. 

“You clearly know what you’re doing, so don’t give me those doe eyes,” he snapped, plush upper lip jerking upward on the right side somewhat. Incase Channing was a little thick – that or just somewhat stunned from fear – Jensen clarified so there need be no further wait. 

“Suck me off. And don’t you dare bite me, whore.”

Okay, so it  _ was _ just a simple blowjob.  Right?  Nodding, his attention turned back to the cock and somehow he felt a sick sort of excitement stir in his chest as he knelt and ran his tongue up the underside of the shaft.  Then with a small, muffled moan he swallowed down the engorged phallus, cockhead and all, and bobbed up and down slowly, as he was sure that Jensen would probably try to choke him on it or some other cliche tough guy blowjob bullshit.

Still, he admittedly enjoyed the thick dick in his mouth...

Having no such urge, as his prisoner was doing precisely what he was told, Jensen laid his left arm against the ledge of the window, having pressed the button to glide the glass down completely, he nestled the gun against Channing’s neck, tender, like a lover nuzzling in.. Grunting from the attention, he slanted his head back a bit, leaning into the chair behind him as blood steadily throbbed through his groin. His mind ran with the possibilities of just what all he could do with his newfound sex slave. Which Channing was, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He was totally in Jensen’s control, and they both knew it... 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Mmn..” he sighed, lifting his pelvis slowly, encouragingly.

Well as long as Jensen was enjoying it, the better he felt, the less a chance he'd want to do any more crazy shit to Channing.  So Channing concentrated on giving him the best blowjob he possibly could. He relaxed the back of his throat and gobbled his man-meat down further, letting the thick rod slide down the back of his throat, nestling into the curvature of his esophagus as if it were a small boy's virgin hole.  He held his breath and slid it in and out of his throat as best he could, having some sick desire to please his newfound 'master.'

He knew the man would be good, but he was a little  _ too _ good right off the bat.. Muscles in his stomach and thighs tightening simultaneously, he snuck the revolver under Channing’s chin and pushed the rather ravenous mouth up off his saliva-slickened shaft, breathing somewhat erratically. 

“Whoa- kay..” he panted, swallowing to calm himself and shake off the orgasm that had been just seconds away.. Nudging the trinket’s head away with the gun again, he reluctantly redressed himself, cock bitterly straining against the clothing as he got out of the truck and walked around to his captive’s side and opened the door. 

“Get out,” he commanded, flushed, but his copper tanned skin ensuring that it was not very visible.

Channing licked his lips when he was peeled off the cock by the gun.  He was pretty good at sucking cock, in fact he was probably the only master that returned the favor for his slaves by doing so. So it was no surprise that Jensen came so close to orgasm, and he tasted pretty nice for an arrogant asshole, so Channing kind of wished that he got a load in his mouth.  But it quickly became apparent that he didn't want just a blowjob, when he demanded he get out.  So he swallowed a gulp hard in his throat and winced, then got out, imagining what he would do to him.  Hopefully he'd find it enjoyable.

Already agitated from the rudeness he’d encountered at the bar, twice now, and still rankled from the experience with Viggo – a revenge that he’d begun to outline in some detail – Jensen was evidently not out for some compassionate love making out in the woods. The gun made that rather apparent, but his determined scowl made it even more so. Channing had no way of knowing this was about more than just him, but he would come to realize it soon enough... Steering the handcuffed man toward the cabin, Jensen flung open the front door and propelled his subjugated mate inward onto the wooden floor. The scent inside was of a location not frequently lived in, but not entirely musty.. Shoving Channing down onto a chesterfield, Jensen directed the loaded and ready weapon at him and resisted the urge to rub himself through his clothing while rumbling the order. 

“Get down to your birthday suit, peaches. I’ve a few surprises for you,” he grinned, but in a malicious manner that left little room to disobey.

Channing wriggled as much out of his pants as he could, being cuffed and all, and kicked off his shoes and socks, stepping on the fabric to pull it off.  Then he just sat there, naked from the torso down.  

"C-c-can't get the shirt off, sir..." He said timidly with closed eyes, wincing.  Though he knew that Jensen wouldn't shoot him now, because raping a dead man wasn't any fun if you didn't get to hear them scream.  "C-cuffed..."

Yes, it was cruel to demand something that a contortionist would have difficulty with, but then again, this was not about fairness, this was about a reprisal, and punishment. 

“You know.. I don’t think I like the word ‘can’t’ coming from your mouth,” he said, some of his thespian training coming into play as he looked comically perplexed, rubbing at his rugged jawline for a moment before firing, once, at Channing’s left foot. Quite unfair..... 

“Don’t go anywhere,” he dictated to the wounded man, not that he’d be going anywhere quickly now, anyway.. Stepping from the room, he could be heard in another chamber opening something, a weighted substance being dropped onto a metallic surface and then the sound of wheels clattering across the wooden floorboards. Jensen was bringing Channing a present..

Maybe Channing was in shock.  Because he heard a loud firing noise.  He looked down and saw a new hole in his naked foot, blood pooling underneath it.  And he just stared at it, and almost started to laugh.  But then his body in a delayed reaction realized what had happened and suddenly he couldn't breathe, and he fell to the floor with a scream of pain, head connecting with the wood of the cabin floor.  He wished it knocked him out, but it didn't, and he still felt all the pain.

Out of the other room came Jensen like a proud chef, with a metal meal cart with a large, bloated, discoloured, somewhat frozen hog splayed out on the top of it like a zombie’s banquet feast. Wheeling it over toward the fallen Channing, he ceased pushing the rather heavy dead pig when the one wheel came in contact with the screaming man’s back. 

“Now, I bet that hurts,” he said, of course referring to the gunshot still sizzling tunnel right through the shocked foot. “And I can perhaps give you something to ease the pain, but you have to work for it...”

Reaching down and grabbing Channing under the arm, he pulled him up onto his feet, knowing the man would not want to stand, but insisting that he do so. Directing the putrid pig on wheels so that its large rump was facing the politician’s son, Jensen grinned broadly. Without so much as a falter of hesitation, he pointed at the hog.

“Fuck its ass,” he ordered. Waving Channing toward the sow a few times with the gun, he nodded. Yes, he was serious... 

“There’s lube on the table,” he smiled.

"Y-You... n-no you can't..." He gasped, suddenly choking.  He was about to vomit, but he didn't want to think of how he'd have to clean it up.  The man already shot him.  Now he was asking him to fuck a dead pig.  All bets were off.  But when Jensen waved the gun his direction to refute his pleas, he gripped the edge of the table, crying.  

"Don't make m-me... please don't make me..." He whimpered, looking at him with big eyes, hoping to see if he had any humanity.

He had plenty of humanity. Just acrimonious humanity. “I sincerely hope you’re not questioning me again.. Because you will shortly run out of places I can shoot you that are non-lethal,” he replied, seemingly stoic to the possibility of Channing’s death. However, not permitting the man to defend himself, or even act appropriately – if it could even be labeled as such – Jensen fired a second shot at his victim’s right shoulder, the bullet lodging deep in the muscle tissue there.

“Now,” he pointed again with the smoldering weapon. “Fuck. That. Pig.”

This couldn't happen to Channing.  Channing was a good person.   This was just like some scene out of one of those horror movies.  Saw or Hostel or something.  Except with gross sexual twists. His gut clenched when the shot fired through his shoulder, but he didn't scream.  Because the horror of the current situation far surpassed any pain he felt.  Still he gagged a dry heave when the pain hissed through his shoulder and he gripped the bottle of lube.  If he just closed his eyes, all would end.  So he slicked up his cock (which was barely maintaining an erection, not even the image of that new slave, Eric, could keep it rigid) and closed his eyes, pressing forward until the head came in contact with the cold, slimy flesh of the dirty animal.  

"Gaaah... nooo...." He cried, tears streaming down his face as he pressed forward.

Just as Channing’s shaft pressed into the animal’s filthy orifice, the snapshot of a camera could be heard. Jensen was taking pictures. Blackmail, after all.. 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he taunted, a flicker of a flash and another picture was taken. “Work it,” he grinned, scarcely containing his laughter. O.. that had to feel putrid. The animal was partially frozen, partially rotten. That and it was a pig.. A very large, rancid one. He’d pat himself on the back later for how mentally ruining this would have to be for Channing, right now he was far too amused with the other man’s misery. 

“Fuck it hard, peaches,” he growled with a smile, stepping in behind the man and groping his testicles vigorously.

It was vile, and disgusting, and Channing was starting to just consider letting him shoot him dead because of it.  He got in halfway and threw up a little in his mouth, but swallowed it to make sure jensen didn't see.  And he sobbed even louder.  

"N-n-n-no more p-please... shoot me instead..." He cried out.  "Burn me, cut me, w-whatever, just no more of this..."

Hearing the sound of the regurgitation, Jensen pursed his lips, squinted slightly and sarcastically purred “Mmmmm mm.” Grabbing the lube off the table, he undressed himself again and pushed Channing’s lower back so that the man thrust deeper into the puckered channel of the dead animal. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, greasing his own still belligerently stiffened cock and gripping the sobbing man’s hips, positioning himself behind Channing in order to introduce him to his own torrid girth from the rear. Gouging deeply into his prey’s hole, he would puppet Channing into fucking the pig if he had to, digging his member right to his sack and swirling his hips around lecherously. Next he smacked his pelvis forward sharply, jostling the man he was now connected to, forcing him to in turn hump forward, into the animal.

"Oooh god..." Channing screamed out.  And not in a pleasant orgasm way.  In a gross oh god I'm dick deep in dead animal way.  And Jesen's furious fucking of his ass was in turn making him hard, which made him feel more of the animal, which made him feel sick again.  

"Nooo! Stoop! Ple-hee-heeeeasssse..." He shouted with a deep guttural sound.  Suddenly, a bullet in the brain didn't seem so bad.

Propelling his hips exuberantly forward, rather pleased with how Channing’s asshole fit around his member, Jensen sighed and smoothed his hands up his captive’s chest, pistoning the poor cuffed man’s aperture mercilessly, though, he had lubed himself up, when he could not have.. but he wanted some enjoyment for himself out of it, so Channing should be thankful for that.... Using every inch of his portly, ardent shaft, he insisted that the several times wounded man thrust in and out of the sow, while he worked diligently on locating the prostate housed within the canal he was thoroughly relishing.. Believing he pinpointed it, he commenced a ruthless assault upon it, colliding his ballooned cockhead into the sensitive gland endlessly, grunting at how snug the ring round his erection was.

“Oh yeah.. Come inside it and I’ll reward you,” he panted.

"Nooo! No please!" He screeched, trying to use the edge of the table to propel himself off of the pig and out of Jensen's grasp.  But the fighting only pushed him back harder into Jensen's thrusts, causing his dick to dive deeper into his insides, and in turn, his own deeper into the animal.  He was going to be sick, and what was worse was that the pounding of his prostate was getting to him.  And before he knew it, he came hard, even though he was trying not to. 

"Please... I-I did it... now make it stop, please... I'll do anything..."

“You certainly will do anything, you sick bastard,” he concurred. “You just fucked a dead pig!” he laughed and slapped Channing on the ass, leaving a perfect scarlet imprint of his hand. It’s not that he didn’t trust Channing – actually it was – but Jensen would soon inspect for himself whether the man had been lying about his orgasm or not.. it was possible to spasm one’s body and counterfeit one. But in a moment, first he had to finish himself off...

It took but a few more curt inward drives before Jensen himself was shuddering and releasing into his captive’s furrow, splashing him with warm semen he had denied earlier in the truck. Grinding himself into the man’s ass for a moment, he then grabbed Channing by the hips and pulled them both backward, looking over the man’s shoulder at the defiled cock to inspect for come. If Channing was lying......

Which he wasn't, but there was not near the same amount of ejaculate as if there would be had he enjoyed himself.  When Jensen looked him over, he just sobbed and closed his eyes.  Anywhere but here would be good now.  He sincerely hoped Jensen was planning on finishing the job and shooting him outright.

Grabbing Channing by the back of the neck, he gruffly hustled him down onto his knees before the sow and propelled his face forward. 

“Clean up your mess, boy,” he ordered. With his free hand, he caressed his own member tenderly, keeping it erect for whatever other perverse pleasures he had in mind, should he have any... Channing would be correct to be fearful. Jensen was blatantly a highly rational, but equally viciously impulsive personality, so a whim, no matter how detestable, could overtake him at any time, and the prisoner’s life could be in dire danger... 

“Lick your come off its ass, then we’ll see about those wounds,” he said softly.

Channing suddenly felt himself at a loss of breath.  he was choking at those words and he couldn't breathe.  Then everything went black.  The request was too much, and he hit the floor, effectively blacking out, hitting his head on the floor.  He didn't care if he was killed now.  Or what punishment he'd receive for being too weak as to black out. Just as long as this was over.

“How displeasing,” Jensen uttered as he observed his averse companion crumble to the floor and knock himself into a no doubt at least mild concussion. This boy was nowhere near the tough guy all that earlier bravado had led his captor to believe, and it was highly unpleasant to find that Channing was such a milksop. Shrugging, Jensen redressed himself and rapidly went about terminating this perverse rendezvous – as it really was no fun if your prisoner was completely unresponsive, and the way that Channing bashed his skull, he was sure to be out a while. Besides, Jensen had other things to do that day...

Dragging Channing under his arms into his truck, not bothering to redress or remove the fetters from him, he sat him in the front seat. Leaving him there, he went and collected the befouled hog and set it in the backseat like a passenger. Retracing his trail from the pub the young Master had provoked the more aggressive one, that being Jensen, at, Mr. Ackles opened the door and shoved the half naked, bound and bleeding Channing out onto the parking lot ground unmercifully. Next, he got out of the truck and laid the deceased pig on top of the unconscious man in a rather unflattering sexual position.. Stroking his victim down the ridge of his nose, he smirked and stood. Whistling with two fingers in either corner of his mouth, like one would summon a dog, Jensen alerted anyone in the area of the scene before climbing back into his truck and driving out of the lot. Perhaps next time, Channing would curb his tongue before making a fool out of himself... If not, Jensen was always around to instill another lesson, if need be...


End file.
